Sound of an Angel
by Vampiyaa
Summary: Years ago Mr. Gold had dubbed it 'their song'. It was a song that had been Baelfire's favourite too. But 28 years later he's still hearing it, even though Belle is dead and gone. And then the only two patients in the asylum, Anabelle French and Bayden Flame, break out and choose his backroom as their hiding place. Rated M for later chapters Rumbelle/Rumbael :3
1. Our Song

Chapter 1

Our Song

"_Amidst the fog and in the dark/still quite bravely sings the lark._

_The mists will lift and clear has come/Gone is the cold, the shiver, the numb._

_Our darling white with wings that glow/She brings the blossom from the snow._

_The violet orchid is her flower/She has no greed but still has power._

_Through lips painted scarlet red/She kisses the living and sings for the dead._

_Her voice carries from the light to the dark/The sound of an angel and the lark."_

That had been their song, way back in the day where magic was second nature and he had captured a beauty in a deal.

Mr. Gold remembered it quite clearly. He recalled it had been on a new spring evening, just after she had lost her footing on the ladder when she'd ripped down the curtains he'd once angrily nailed down it a fit of anger. He'd been sitting on his chair using the spinning wheel. It had become his favourite pastime, because you couldn't really think about anything painful without messing up on what you were working on, so he'd found this hobby quite good at blocking out those terrible memories. But today those rules didn't apply for some annoying reason. He angrily shoved himself away from the spinning wheel as if it had been its fault that the memories of his son, his beloved Baelfire, being sucked into the ground to a world where he was unreachable and magic was not unheard of, but it was impossible to use. Rumplestiltskin had stormed off, intending on perhaps waking Belle to make him a cup of tea, before his face slackened.

Belle. He'd called her Belle in his mind. He hadn't yet called her by name, just by his usual mannerism of 'dearie'. This made him irritated concerned and confused all at once— when the _hell_ had he gotten so buddy-buddy with her?

His mind had flitted back to when he'd caught her in his arms. His face had momentarily been buried in her neck and he could smell her perfume— like lilacs. Sure, her scent had been apparent to him for a while, but then he could smell it properly, and it had momentarily knocked the breath out of him. He'd also been stunned when her pair of sparkling blue eyes had met his own, so deep he could slightly feel like he was almost drowning, and they'd held slight amusement and intrigue, mixed with the alarm of falling and the serenity of the knowledge of being caught.

He stared hard at the expensive vase he'd gotten in one of his old deals, wondering if throwing it across the room would help the annoying, mixed feelings of guilt for his son and a kind of bizarre longing for Belle.

Damn it, he'd thought her name again. What the hell was wrong with him?

When he had been cursing and scolding himself for thinking Belle's name again — ack, he did it again! — Belle's voice had whispered through the empty corridor and half-drowned out the sound of chirping birds.

"What are you doing?"

Rumplestiltskin had done an almost comical double take, when he'd finally taken in the sight of her in one of those skimpy nightdresses he'd given to her when he'd taken her out of the dungeon and had instead given her a room. She'd had her chestnut hair messy and her hand was bunched up and rubbing at her eyes, wiping away the grit of sleep.

"Never you mind," he said, not harshly but slightly amused at her bed head. "What are you doing up so early dearie? The sun's barely been up."

"Had a nightmare," she mumbled through rosy lips as she squinted at the sunlight that poured through the now unclad window.

"Do tell," Rumplestiltskin had said, in an almost interested voice. He wasn't really, of course; he just simply wanted company, someone to talk to and something to get his damn mind off of both Bae and his slowly growing attraction to the blasted woman.

She did that adorable thing with her mouth, where one side with quirk up while the other side thought about emulating, and her eyes skimmed to the floor embarrassedly. "It was stupid, really. I was here with you, but Gaston was here too, and my father. We were all… hunting, I think."

"Hunting?" Rumplestiltskin said with a chuckle. "In the castle?"

Belle nodded, and a becoming blush had swept over her cheeks. "Yes, as I recall we were hunting a doe, but every time we'd get close enough it would run away. After a while Gaston finally got it in the stomach with his spear, and then I heard you scream, and when I turned around you had Gaston's spear in your stomach."

She blinked, almost as if she'd been overwhelmed by what she'd said, before continuing. "It was… kind of weird, because after that Gaston turned into a rose."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled again and thought, perhaps that's a good idea to use in the future. "Dreams are visions of the impossible. Quite frankly dearie, I doubt I am magically bonded to a doe, nor will we be hunting any in the Dark Castle."

Belle laughed at that too, and the musical tone to it made him pause momentarily before he brushed it off.

"Go back to sleep," he'd said, not firmly but it still wasn't a request. "I'll wake you later."

She'd given him that crooked smile again before her eyes went to the floor again and she turned around. What alarmed Rumplestiltskin was the song tumbling from her lips.

"Wait," he ordered. "What are you singing?"

Belle turned around again, blushed and mumbled, "Sound of an Angel. My mother taught it to me."

How odd, he'd thought, since it had been Baelfire's favourite song when he was younger. It made him both want to weep, sing along and throw something at her. He once again contemplated on the vase before deciding the second option would be best if not less humiliating and/or guilt-prone.

He'd noticed the look of shock that had slipped across her face when he'd half-mumbled, half-sang the last two sentences of the song. "You know it?"

"More than you can imagine."

'Sound of an Angel' had been dubbed 'their song' in his mind after that.

Now Mr. Gold hobbled with his cane on the sidewalk in the small town of Storybrooke, sparing a single glance at the clock and giving it a well-deserved grin. He, the only one who could remember what he used to be in the _other _world (other than Regina, Jefferson and that little boy Henry), was perfectly glad that time had started. That meant all he had to do was wait, and the curse he'd so stupidly made for the Evil Queen would be broken, Miss Swan would be the saviour and he could get the hell out of here. It was frustrating, really, to be the Dark One in a world where he couldn't even use the immense powers he had, and where he had nobody to talk about their old lives with except the woman who'd shoved them there in the first place, a child and a madman.

Mr. Gold sighed at his own foolishness. Why, oh why, did he make that damned curse for the bitch? Of all the stupid things he'd done, that was probably the most enormous.

On the way to his shop he passed everybody he used to know. Mary Margaret Blanchard on her way to her school. David Nolan walking slightly behind her, leaving the fact that his love was within a few metres of him unnoticed. Ruby and Granny, on the porch steps of Granny's Diner, both arguing as usual. Archie Hopper walking down the street holding a briefcase and his Dalmatian Pongo on a leash. August, who Mr. Gold ignored since he was still angry with the man for impersonating his son to try and control him. Miss Swan in the window as he passed the police station.

Snow White, Prince Charming, Red Riding Hood and the grandmother, Jiminy Cricket, Pinocchio and the saviour. Mr. Gold chuckled to himself— so many people he knew in past lives in the same small town. At first it had been odd seeing them all together, not knowing who they used to be, but he'd gotten used to it over the twenty-eight years he'd been forced to live in this hellhole.

And when he passed the hospital, he paused like he did every day for the past twenty-eight years, because this was when he'd hear someone singing their song.

Every morning, at the exact same time and place for the last ten thousand two hundred and twenty days, he could just faintly hear his one true love's voice singing Sound of an Angel.

The first time he'd heard it he'd relished it. The second time, he'd panicked and thought God, damn it to hell, he must be going insane. The rest of the times he relished it again and didn't care whether he was nuts or not. He'd rationalized it by thinking back when he'd been the Dark One with power he'd been basically nuts then, so why should this be any different?

When the singing stopped he finally limped all the way to his shop, humming their song until the bell rang, indicating he should shut up and smirk at the customer that entered.

It was when the shop was empty and he was lazing in a chair, staring at the chipped teacup and daydreaming of finding his son and Belle together that he'd read it. When he'd finally snapped himself back to reality and remembered the line he'd said years ago, "_Dreams are visions of the impossible."_

_That dream was only impossible, _argued a voice in the back of his head. _Because you'd imagined Bae as a child again._

True, he'd considered. Bae would be a fully-grown man by now.

Then a name in the newspaper had caught his eyes.

"Hm," he said to himself, picking up the newspaper and reading the front page.

_There have been two breakouts from the Psych Ward underneath the hospital _— Mr. Gold remarked to himself that he hadn't know there was a Psych Ward in the hospital — _early this morning; one male and one female. Mayor Regina Mills has identified the two as Anabelle French and Bayden Flame. She strongly assures the public that they are still in Storybrooke _(Mr. Gold chuckled) _and that these two may be dangerous. Please call if you have any information._

For the next two days when Mr. Gold walked to work, he didn't hear Sound of an Angel in the morning, and it bothered him enough to want to check himself into that Psych Ward himself.

* * *

"We really need to figure out what to do," Anabelle panted.

She and Bayden were crouched in an alley behind an enormous dumpster, while blood poured from the back of her head. Her leg was battered up and blue.

"Yeah, I'll say," Bayden said irritably. "We just broke out of the hospital. Seems kind of karmic that you get injured back enough to have to go back to one."

"Don't be silly; I'm not going back," Anabelle snapped, rubbing her bruised knee. "I just want to know why every time we try to leave Storybrooke, we end up getting hurt."

"Speak for yourself— at least I was smart enough not to try again after the branch cracked above you and knocked you out," Bayden replied, checking the wound. "Gross."

"What's the plan?" Anabelle winced, ignoring his final comment.

"Fight to the death!" Bayden exclaimed happily, earning himself a reproachful look from Anabelle.

"We're trying to escape with our lives, Bay," she said irritably. "I'm wounded and they have guns. So the whole 'fighting' and 'death' part don't really work."

"Run like hell, then?" Bayden suggested unhelpfully.

Anabelle scoffed. "And where are we going to go? For some reason we can't leave town, and we've got the entire authorities looking for us—"

"There they are!" Anabelle and Bayden both heard faintly, and they could both jumped up instinctively and ran like hell. Bayden, holding her hand, was half-dragging her down the streets of Storybrooke as she was limping heavily. Despite the stitch in her side and the pain in both her head and knee she kept going. She couldn't let that raven-haired woman who had visited her keep her locked in there when she was absolutely sane, and the same goes for Bayden. He was as sane as her and a good fifteen years younger. Anabelle did not want him wasting his days in a loony bin when he had his whole life ahead of him.

She and Bayden cut through another alley and slammed themselves shoulder-first through the first door they saw and closed it quickly and as quietly as possible. Anabelle panted with eyes squeezed shut, devoting four of her senses (except touch, since pain was still far too apparent) to her hearing. She could hear on the other side of the door police yelling at each other and heavy footfalls as the officers ran past the door. She heard Bayden's sigh of relief and that encouraged her to open her eyes.

She gasped at the junk and clutter that was around her. There were literally shelves and shelves of old junk, tiny sets of glass chessboards and knickknacks and books.

Mr. Gold meanwhile was sipping his daily cup of Earl Grey and not enjoying it in the least. The name in the paper had left quite an imprint on him. Anabelle French… how strange, there was already Moe French in the town that — Mr. Gold's expression soured — he'd attacked and beaten half to death for killing his daughter, dearest Belle…

Moe French. Anabelle French. King Maurice's daughter.

Belle.

His heart faltered just as he heard a thumping noise from his back room and his head snapped up. The cup of Earl Grey was left forgotten on the counter.

"What the hell are we going to do Bayden?" Anabelle whined, softly, in case someone lived here. "We have nowhere to go."

"Who the hell are you two?" ordered an Irish accented and slightly shaky voice from behind a curtain.

Anabelle buried her face in her hands, trying not to cry, thinking, _We're absolutely done for, he's going to find us. He'll call the police and we'll go back to hospital again…_

Anabelle started when the voice choked out, "Belle!"

Her head snapped up. Mr. Gold took in everything of her: her chestnut hair that was unkempt and messy, like that day so long ago; her sparkling blue eyes that were just starting to redden with the tears that were threatening to come; the skimpy white Psych gown that reminded him so of the nightgown he'd provided for her years ago; her rosy lips that formed desperate words.

"Please don't call the police," she whispered, and Mr. Gold who had eyes wide and jaw dropped all the way down to hell, saw her skin start to tremble. "We're not crazy."

Mr. Gold didn't answer— he simply reached out and touched her cheek, still looking astonished. He almost groaned at the feel of her soft skin against the hand that had longed to touch her years ago.

"You're real," he hissed, barely noticing her stunned look. "You're alive. I'm not insane."

"Please," Anabelle pleaded.

Mr. Gold, blinking back his own tears, nodded firmly. "I assure you my dearest— I never even thought of it."

He relished the look of relief that washed over her face like a delicate wave; it suited her much better than despair.

"Who are you?" she mumbled, suddenly noticing his hand was still on her cheek.

His heart nearly shattered into a thousand pieces when he realized she didn't remember him, but he choked it back and said, "I am Mr. Gold."

Then he noticed the man staring at him with both a confused and wary look, with almond-coloured eyes that made Mr. Gold flinch with realization.

"My son," he whispered, turning his attention to Bayden though his hand still rested on Anabelle's skin. "You're Bae."

"Why are you calling us by nickname?" Bayden asked warily. "Do you know us?"

Mr. Gold's face fell from shock to horror— his Baelfire had come to the land without magic far before Regina's curse had sent the rest of them here, so why wouldn't Bae remember him? Unless…

His face contorted into rage. That bitch.

"I-I'm Anabelle," she stammered, alarmed by the man's sudden change in expression. "This is Bayden."

"Do you know us?" Bayden repeated, firmer this time.

"Bay, calm yourself," Anabelle said slightly under her breath. "He said he'd help us."

Mr. Gold nodded sternly, still looking pissed but less now that Anabelle had spoken. Her lilted accented voice rang through his ears, made his heart falter again and made him both want to hug her until they both died in each other's arm and at the same time pinch himself because God, he couldn't believe it. And then Anabelle's eyelids lowered and she suddenly stumbled forward. Mr. Gold only just caught her in time, letting out a half-choked gasp as he finally noticed the dark spot on the back of her head, hair clotted with an almost black substance while scarlet drip trickled down her neck and disappeared into the white gown, only to reappear as a stain.

"What… what is… how did…?" Mr. Gold spluttered, feeling panic rise in his chest and bile in his throat.

"Tried to leave Storybrooke," Bayden explained, casting a worried glance at the half-conscious Anabelle. "Doesn't make sense why she got hurt when she tried."

"It's— I'm sorry, I'm fine," Anabelle said, but the breathlessness of her voice and the unfocused look in her eyes told everyone otherwise.

Being careful of her head and leg, Mr. Gold swept her into his arms and, after taking a moment to marvel at how he could do that as well when he was twenty-eight years younger, hurried over to the curtain and pushed it aside with his elbow. While the panic still flared in his chest (_please oh please may she be alive, _he kept praying desperately in his head) he was also still in shock. His Belle was still _alive, _still breathing and speaking and laughing… and his Baelfire was with her, for the love of God! What had he done, he wondered, to deserve them both coming home together, as if the Lord himself had delivered his most desired package?

Mr. Gold, nearly tripping over the edge of the counter in anticipation, hurried over to an old antique sofa that had been donated to him by Dr. Whale (Ironic that it would be put to medical use, Mr. Gold smirked in his mind) and laid his Belle out on it. His heart nearly stopped when Anabelle smiled up at him gratefully; not that embarrassed crooked smile she used to do when they'd lived together in the past, but nonetheless it had quite an effect on him. He couldn't bring himself to smile back but instead tore his gaze away from those sparkling gems of blue eyes and instead left to find his emergency kit.

Bayden watched him through suspicious walnut-coloured eyes. Of all the people he and Ana had to stumble across who'd be willing to help them, they had to get the one person in Storybrooke who was nervous as hell and possibly delusional. It was odd, Bayden thought, that the man had known their names (which hadn't surprised him at first, because of the newspaper article) but the man — _Mr. Gold, I think, _he thought confusedly — had instead called them out by nickname, as if he'd known them. Perhaps he had, Bay marvelled, perhaps he was the one who'd put them in that blasted Psych Ward in the first place!

Mr. Gold returned from the backroom again with the medicine cabinet, shivered underneath the hard glare he was getting from Bae and limped over to Belle. She still had the remnants of her grateful smile on her lips, but now her eyes were closed.

"I think she's unconscious," Mr. Gold whispered, more to himself than to Bayden.

"Shit," Bayden said irritably, making Mr. Gold nearly choke on the very air he breathed.

Never in all of his years of raising his boy had Bae cursed, and Mr. Gold had an odd urge to scold the fully-grown man for it. He shook off the thought and spent the next hour or so cleaning off as much blood as he could from her hair and, using a trick he'd learned from the Land with Magic, sewn up the wound (except this time he used dollar store-bought thread instead of that thread he'd spun on his prized spinning wheel when Bae had cut his leg.

Mr. Gold gave another tiny glance at Bae and saw distrust and irritation blazing in Bayden's eyes, and while he wondered if Bae remembered what had happened to land him in the Land Without Magic in the first place he opened his mouth to hoarsely announce, "She'll be fine."

"Thank you," Bayden said, his voice reflecting no thankfulness whatsoever.

Mr. Gold hesitated. "If you don't mind my asking, why were you and—" he couldn't bring himself to say her name "— she in the Psych Ward?"

Bayden's already stone-cold expression hardened even more. "Not sure. All I know is Ana and I have been there for who the hell knows how long, we're the only ones there, we're both perfectly sane and I have a huge chunk of memory missing from my childhood." His head cocked to the side, as if expecting Mr. Gold to drop to his knees and confess.

Instead, Mr. Gold resisted the urge to punch a hole in the wall (he didn't want to wake up Belle) and cursed under his breath. "Regina got to you, the whore."

"I take it you're not too fond of our lovely mayor," Bayden said tonelessly, starting to doubt his own theory of Mr. Gold's involvement.

"That, my son, is an understatement," Mr. Gold laughed humourlessly.

"Now there's another thing," Bayden said angrily. "That's the second time you've called me 'son'. And you keep called me 'Bay' and her 'Belle'. Did you know us?"

Mr. Gold sighed— he could still see the determined little boy that wanted answers and never backed down inside the man that stood before him. "Yes, I did."

"Then I was right!" Bayden exclaimed angrily. "You were the one who locked us up!"

"I would _never _do that," Mr. Gold snapped, before shoving his temper to the side. "I'm suspecting Regina found you and locked you up along with my Belle."

"_Your_ Belle?" he repeated suspiciously. "You knew her too then?"

"More than I can say," Mr. Gold replied firmly, tearing his gaze away to instead look at the sleeping figure of his love. He closed his eyes as he imagined Belle's beautiful singing every morning in his ears.

"Amidst the fog and in the dark, still quite bravely sings the lark," Mr. Gold muttered to himself, chuckling at the irony.

Belle was his lark, his angel, and she had sung for him from the darkness. Even if she hadn't known it was for him.

"How did you know that line?" Bayden demanded. "Damn it, these coincidences with you are driving me nuts."

"Watch your tongue," came out of his mouth before he could contain it, and to cover up his parental scolding he said airily, "You needn't be so hostile to the person sheltering you from the authorities."

Bayden soured but didn't say another word.

"I know that line," Mr. Gold said simply and calmly, even though his heart was going a mile a minute. "Because it was my son's favourite song, and my love's."

Bayden didn't answer to that, but the gears in his brain were whirring again almost loud enough for someone to hear.

"Ana sang it every morning," Bayden thought, not realizing he was actually speaking aloud. "I never knew why."

"Mm," said Mr. Gold simply.

**A/N: hi I'm Vampiyaa :3 this is my first OUAT fanfic. Not my first ever fanfic, I've written like 8 stories for Labyrinth, Hakushaku to Yousei, Tokyo Mew Mew, umm what else? Time Guardian, ofc ;) and V For Vendetta. I'm totally fixated on Rumbelle, and working on like 4 other stories ^^' but i wanted to get this chapter up. dont expect any updates any time soon (sorry, Shadows Whispers and Destruction was here first) **


	2. The Bell and the Fire

Chapter 2

The Bell and the Fire

Anabelle finally woke after a long dream, in which a grey-skinned man was holding hands with a twelve-year-old boy and they were each holding a wilted rose while she sang from the top of a tower. She noted in the back of her mind that she'd been singing That Song.

Anabelle didn't remember how she'd come to be in that Psych Ward beneath the hospital, but she remembered the first day there as clearly as she remembered yesterday. Ana had woken from a rather terrifying dream about an Evil Queen with a skin-tight dress chasing her through a sparkling forest, and the queen had been laughing hysterically and whispering things in her ear that didn't entirely make sense, 'You'll like it in your new home', 'He didn't want you, so why continue staying close?' and 'I can heal that broken heart of yours, without that pathetic magic you call true love'.

When she'd woken she'd screamed, because the Evil Queen had been standing over her in a dark room, but the woman with the raven hair had calmed her in a sickly sweet voice saying that she'd just had a bad dream and that she should relax. The woman, who Ana had later learned was Mayor Regina Mills, had been holding a chipped flowered cup.

"… _Through lips painted scarlet red, she kisses the living and sings for the dead…"_

She'd mumbled it out without knowing it, and next to her she heard the gravely voice of Mr. Gold sing quietly, "_… Her voice carries from the light to the dark, the sound of an angel and the lark."_

Anabelle opened her eyes to see Mr. Gold sitting in a red velvet antique armchair, playing idly with something white and flowery. Ana blinked the blurriness out of her eyes to see it was a teacup.

"How d'you know that song?" Ana whispered, causing Mr. Gold to jump slightly.

"Ah, I didn't know you'd awakened," he said quickly, and Ana saw him quickly shove the teacup into his pocket. "In another life, Belle, I had a son, and a love of my life, and all three of us loved that song."

"But, how is that possible?" Anabelle muttered, more to herself than to him. "I've only ever heard that song in a dream."

Mr. Gold couldn't help but smile. "That is an excellent question, my dear, one that definitely has an answer."

"What's the answer?" Ana asked.

He winked. "It's a secret."

He got up out of the chair and limped off into the back room, leaving Ana's question unanswered. She sat up, flinched at the pounding headache she now had and stared at the curtain that was still rippling from Mr. Gold's pushing it aside.

"He's suspicious, isn't he?" Bayden's drawling voice said from behind her, and she turned around to see him leaning on an antique cabinet.

"Suspicious?" Ana echoed confusedly, as he approached her and sat down. "How?"

"He knows things," he said darkly, in a hushed voice in case Mr. Gold was eavesdropping. "Like last night, he knew our names."

"He could have read them in the newspaper," Ana pointed out. "We did sort of make a name for ourselves thanks to Mayor Regina."

"That's what I thought too, but he calls us 'Bay' and 'Belle' as if he knew us personally," Bayden argued. "And he somehow knows that song you always sing. I thought you told me that it came to you in a dream?"

"It did," Ana sighed, crossing her arms. "I have no idea how he knew it."

"Me neither," Bayden said grumpily. "Unless he knew us before we were in the Psych Ward."

Ana gasped. "Bay, you're not suggesting that Mr. Gold put us there in the first place? And if he did, why don't we remember him?"

"He might have," Bayden said lowly. "How else would he know so much about us, act like he knows us? And quite frankly, I don't know what Mayor Mills is capable of, since I can't remember anything before I was twenty years old and in a straight jacket. She could have erased our memories somehow." Then he leaned in close to her ear. "And you can't deny that he has a certain familiar quality to Mr. Gold."

Anabelle sighed again and looked at the floor, picturing Mr. Gold in her mind. "Yes, I won't doubt that when I first saw him he looked a little familiar."

"Exactly," Bayden said, just as Mr. Gold re-emerged from behind the curtain.

"I see you're awake too, Bae," he said airily—Bay cringed at the nickname and Ana bit her lip.

"Er, yeah," he said, in a stony tone that made Ana nudge him with her elbow. "So… what's going to happen now?"

"Well you obviously can't stay in the shop," Mr. Gold said thoughtfully.

"You don't live here?" Ana asked.

"No dearie, I live downtown," Mr. Gold chuckled. "But you can't stay there either, it's too close to the Mayor's house."

Ana shivered at Regina's name and Bae patted her shoulder comfortingly, a gesture not missed by Mr. Gold. A mixed feeling of utter despair and pure joy swept over him like a tidal wave— never, in all his years of fantasizing Bae coming home, or Belle miraculously being alive, had he imagined the two of them gesturing like old friends. They'd been through so much, he realized with a stab in his chest, and what had he been doing? Living up to his reputation as the 'cruel dealer of Storybrooke', selling antiques, reminiscing with the Mayor about the old times that nobody remembered, stealing rent, making deals and beating up worthless scum like Moe French?

Listening to Belle sing every morning and wonder whether or not he was insane?

"Mr. Gold—" Anabelle started softly, causing him to snap out of his trance rather painfully. "Thank you, for everything." The side of her mouth quirked up and her eyes skimmed to the floor, a gesture that made Mr. Gold weak in the knees. "You've been… absolutely wonderful to us, even though we're complete strangers."

Bay searched Mr. Gold's features for a sign, a symbol that would confirm their suspicions, but Mr. Gold merely smiled calmly and patted her head with one shaking hand. "You needn't thank me, Belle, it's no trouble."

Anabelle felt a blush creeping up on her cheeks and she ducked her head to hide it, scolding herself mentally. She was a grown woman, for God's sake, no need to get embarrassed over a little gesture like that!

Mr. Gold saw her blush and let his thoughts momentarily drift back to a time in the Land with Magic.

_Rumplestiltskin had just gotten back to the Dark Castle, a silly grin on his face. He was thrilled, positively thrilled— he'd been attempting to persuade a rather petulant farmer to make a deal with him: his vial of wolfsbane that could be used for a million different evil things (he giggled at the thought) for a simple few pieces of silver. That stupid man, he laughed, had no idea what wolfsbane was worth! _

_He stopped for a moment, listening for the sound of Belle's slippers against the stone floor, but all he heard was the sound of pouring ran splattering against the glass of the windows. Strange, he thought, usually she'd be up at this time cleaning the dining room. It was only an hour into the evening._

_Perhaps, he thought, hurrying up the stairs angrily, she'd let curiosity get to her as it so often did and went into his room. But when he looked the room was still untouched. _

_Rumplestiltskin stormed back down the steps, his good mood replaced with anger. Where the hell was that damnable girl? He took a half an hour to search the castle high and low for her, but he couldn't find her anywhere._

"_DAMN IT, BELLE!" Rumplestiltskin shouted angrily, stomping his foot childishly. That's when he noticed the door leading to the gardens was ajar. Horror flooded his insides… no; she couldn't possibly have run off, she couldn't have left him…_

_Rumplestiltskin threw himself out the door and spotted her immediately. She was sitting idly on a tree stump, completely soaked to the bone, hair sticking to her face and neck along with her snow-white nightgown. She had her head thrown back, her eyes closed and the corners of her mouth curled upward. _

"_Belle—" he choked out, stumbling into the rain after her. _

_She turned to him idly and smiled. "Rumplestiltskin, you're back. Did you make the deal?"_

_He ignored her question and hurried over to her, gathering her up in his arms. "Belle, what the Devil are you doing out here? It's absolutely freezing."_

"_I like the rain," Belle shrugged, but allowed him to lead her inside. "Don't you?"_

"_It's delightful," Rumplestiltskin said bitterly, making Belle giggle. _

_He realized, slight colour flooding his grey-tinged cheeks, that he could see nearly completely through her white gown thanks to the rain. He thankfully couldn't see her lower regions (if he had he probably would have attacked her, whether or not she had been wearing panties) but unfortunately he could faintly see the outlines of her breasts and nearly had a heart attack from the sight of them. They were perfect; round and just the right size, and in the centre were dusty pink nipples erect from the cold and rubbing against the silky fabric. He let out a frustrated growl and pinned her to his chest, inhaling her scent to try and calm himself down before he ripped her nightgown to pieces. God, if he could just reach up a little and touch them, rub them…_

"_R-Rumplestiltskin?" she stammered uncertainly, not pushing him away but not returning his embrace either._

"_Don't ever do that again," he snarled into her ear, releasing her immediately and starting to storm off up the stairs. _

"_You thought I ran away, didn't you?" she called, and he froze mid-step but didn't turn around. _

"_You belong to me," he said in a low, shaking voice. "Do you understand?"_

"_Yes." Her answer took him slightly by surprise, but he half jogged up the stairs anyway to lock himself in his room. The sooner he got the hell away from that girl and her breasts, the better. _

_Though she'd been right, he noted after a few minutes of silence. He had been terrified that she'd left him. But he didn't know why._

The ringing of the tiny bell hanging off the door jerked Mr. Gold back to Earth and he looked up in alarm to see Mayor Regina Mills strutting idly into his shop. Anabelle and Bayden ducked behind the counter immediately, and Ana simply sat there shaking while tears leaked from her eyes. This was it, they were going to be caught and sent back to the Psych Ward…

"Ah, Mayor Mills," Mr. Gold said idly, trying to erase any trace of panic on his face. "To what do I owe the pleasure of having you sashay into my shop? Another one of your ridiculous plans?"

"Don't insult me, Gold," Regina said coolly, even though a smirk was present on her lips. "I assume you've read the _Daily Mirror _yesterday morning?"

"Indeed," Mr. Gold said, pushing the opened copy of the newspaper toward her. "Why, are you recalling them all?"

"Don't be stupid, Gold, you know perfectly well why I'm here," she said airily. "Two people escaped the Psych Ward yesterday—"

"— the Psych Ward that until yesterday morning I didn't know existed," Mr. Gold said coldly.

"— and they're still on the run," Regina finished, glaring at him for interrupting. "You wouldn't perhaps… know where they are?"

"Oh?" Mr. Gold said breezily, pretending to examine an eagle-feather quill with great interest. "And why am I suddenly the accused? When exactly have I been known to take in random strangers I don't know or give a damn about? Aren't I the type of person who kicks them into gutters?"

"That is exactly the kind of man you are, Gold," Regina said swiftly. "But as you may or may not know, these two are quite… special."

Her index finger trailed over the names 'Anabelle French' and 'Bayden Flame'.

"I repeat: random strangers I don't know or give a damn about."

"Shut up Gold," Regina snapped. "You know exactly who these two are and you'd probably fight to the death to get them."

"Mm, are you talking about people I once met in the Land with Magic? Because it's been so long, whoever they are I probably don't recall…"

"I lied, Rumplestiltskin," Regina suddenly snarled. "She's alive, she never killed herself. And the boy is alive too— I found him wandering around a forest about to be mauled by a rabid lynx. You're welcome, by the way, for saving his life."

"I don't know who the fuck you're talking about, Mayor Mills," Mr. Gold said loudly. "Get out of my shop."

"You know perfectly well—"

"Please," he hissed, and Regina drew back with a look of angry shock as if Mr. Gold had hit her. She slowly turned on her heels and angrily left the shop, the bell clinking rather furiously.

Bayden exhaled loudly but stayed crouched down. "Well, that almost gave me a heart attack."

"Indeed," Mr. Gold agreed darkly. "She knows you're here. We certainly can't go to my home now with her breathing down our necks."

Bay got up and slowly approached the window, trying to see if she was gone or not.

The crashing sound of breaking glass and Bayden's yell of pain made them all jump. Mr. Gold craned his neck to see in horror that the window had been broken, and on the floor was a flaming branch. The fire caught on the curtains, a rug and an old velvet armchair and soon the fire was enormous.

"DAMN YOU REGINA!" Mr. Gold shouted over the roaring of the fire, scooping a gasping Anabelle into his arms and grabbing Bayden's wrist in turn.

"QUICK, OUT THE BACK DOOR!" Bayden yelled, but Mr. Gold shook his head.

"THAT'S WHAT SHE'S TRYING TO DO— SHE'S PROBABLY GOT AN ARMY WAITING OUT THERE!"

Instead Mr. Gold hurled himself into the backroom and yanked away a rug, revealing a trapdoor that Bay quickly tugged open and jumped in, Mr. Gold directly behind him. In the faint light that was coming through the cracks of the trapdoor the three of them could faintly see a tunnel, the end of which was simply everlasting darkness.

"Damn that bitch," Mr. Gold swore softly, keeping Ana cradled in his arms as they stopped for a moment to catch their breath. "Accusations are one thing, but I never knew she'd actually burn down the shop!"

"That looks bad, Bay," Ana whispered, and Mr. Gold only just noticed the jagged cut running from the side of Bayden's eyebrow down to his chin.

"There's still a shard of glass in it," Mr. Gold noted, fatherly worry rising up in his chest untamed. "We'll have to patch it up later."

"Where will we go now?" Anabelle mumbled.

"Fret not, dearie," Mr. Gold said. "We'll go to my cabin in the woods. Only Miss Swan and August know about it, and I know they'll keep their mouths shut."

"Who?" Bayden said rather demandingly.

"Miss Swan is the town sheriff," Mr. Gold explained, before his toned turned bitter. "And August I'm currently angry at."

"Where does this tunnel lead?" Bay asked, squinting to try and see through the darkness.

"To the cellar at Granny's, another little invention of mine Regina doesn't know about," Mr. Gold said proudly. "I'm afraid it's not lit— we'll have to feel our way through the darkness." He gently set Anabelle down, whimpering half from the thought or her being in pain, half because he didn't want to let go of her. "Can you walk?"

"I-I think," Ana stammered, trying to put some weight gingerly on her bashed leg and wincing loud enough to make Mr. Gold flinch. She slid one hand onto his shoulder and the other around his chest so that she was leaning heavily on him. He obediently slid his arm around her waist to keep her from falling, hating how he could feel her bones through her nightgown.

He tried not to think of what the poor beauty had been through in that damnable Psych Ward as they walked sightlessly down the tunnel. He instead concentrated on not turning his head to inhale her scent, which he'd only been able to smell on too few occasions— a mere five times before: the first when she'd let him escort her out of her castle to live with him, the second when he caught her after she fell trying to rip open the curtains, the third when she'd been outside in the rain, the fourth when she'd leaned over to kiss him (he felt a strangled mix of love and despair at the memory) and the fifth when she'd fainted after stumbling across him, battered and bruised.

Mr. Gold felt her tiny hand tighten on his shoulder and chest as she struggled to keep herself upright. He felt the familiar desire to grip her hand tightly and never let go.

A smacking sound made Ana jump, and Bayden exclaimed rather bitterly, "I think we're at the end."

"How do you know?" Ana asked.

"I just walked into a solid wall," was the irritable reply.

Mr. Gold chuckled, reached up with his free hand, felt the metal of the trapdoor and pushed it open.

**A/N: Sorry for the TOTALLY late update, you all have my permission to hit me in the face -_- been soo stressed out with my other unfinished fanfictions, and before you ask NO they are not OUAT fanfictions, they're Labyrinth fics (read if you looove that movie or if you simply love David Bowie in tights ;D) this chap's a little short, forgive me. **

**this fic's not gonna be that long, mind you, maybe 10-12 chaps. no there won't be a sequel, but there will be some delicious Rumbelle action (by action I mean lemons :O you have been warned!) it'll be mostly fluff till later chapters, sorry**


	3. Memories of a Land Lost in Blasphemy

Chapter 3

Memories of a Land Lost in Blasphemy

"_FUCK!" Rumplestiltskin fumed, stomping his foot childishly. _

_Rumplestiltskin was utterly covered in a liquid blue mess of potion. He'd used a drop of his precious wolfsbane obtained by that stupid peasant into his newest concoction, and it had completely exploded in his face. What, he thought angrily, had gone wrong? _

"_Rumplestiltskin," came Belle's melodic voice from behind the chamber door, and she hesitantly came into the room to see Rumplestiltskin covered in his potion from head to shoulders. He ignored her though, still wallowing in his anger._

"_What the fuck went wrong?" he cursed angrily, hurling a crystal vial at the wall and taking great pleasure from the way it shattered not into shards but into dust. "Perhaps I added too many ginger roots… yes, that must be it… but I haven't any more ginger roots to replace the ruined ones…" _

_Belle watched him rather amusedly as he muttered irritably to himself, breaking the occasional thing whenever his temper spiked again. Just as he was about to chuck a textbook across the room, her slim hand wrapped around his arm and the other plucked the book from his palm. He turned to her confusedly, anger gone._

_When she giggled, Rumplestiltskin grew angry again. "What's so funny, dearie?"_

"_You look silly," she said airily, the side of her mouth rising and her eyes dropping to the floor. "Come, I'll clean you up." _

_Rumplestiltskin could have simply made the mess disappear by magic, but all prospects of doing so were wiped from his mind as Belle led him into the kitchen. She fetched a towel and a bucket of water, leaned over him and began to clean him off, and he watched her with mesmerized eyes as she covered his dripping flyaway hair with the towel._

_He closed his eyes as she gently ran the cloth over his cheeks, both to protect them and to enjoy the feeling, and he had to suppress a sigh as the cloth travelled down his neck. He opened his eyes halfway as she clean off his shoulder, staring at the top of her brunette head and wishing he could kiss her forehead, then her nose and then her lips. _

"_Are you going to tell me what happened up there?" Belle asked quietly as she towelled off the other side of his neck. _

"_Potion gone wrong," he said lightly, regaining his airy-fairy composure. _

"_You spend a lot of time making potions," Belle noted, noticing she missed a spot on his ear and reached up to clean it off, and he almost hissed with delight at the feel of it. "What do you make them for?"_

"_Oh you know, this and that," Rumplestiltskin said lamely, staring at her with a hard blazing look. _

_She noticed it and blushed. "What?"_

_Internally, Rumplestiltskin was having an all-out war between his libido and his darker half. His libido was absolutely screaming itself hoarse that he should grab her wrists, pin her to the floor and kiss her, and then perhaps rip open her gown and take her. His darker half was paired with common sense and was pressing that that wasn't a very good idea, since Belle would probably be startled, and besides, she would probably run away since he was such a disgusting, vile monster. _

"_It's a secret," he said instead, getting up and leaving her in the kitchen. _

_He avoided her like the plague for the rest of the day and spent a good hour that night in his bed, gripping his erect member and fantasizing about fucking that goddess who was asleep downstairs. _

Mr. Gold was the first to climb through the trapdoor. Bay stayed down and hoisted the crippled Ana up, and Mr. Gold flushed as she gripped his shoulders tightly and spilled into his lap to stop from falling back through the trapdoor. Bayden pulled himself up with ease and closed the trapdoor as quietly as possible.

"How do we get out of here?" Ana whispered, still latched onto Mr. Gold for support.

"We'll have to sneak through the backdoor," Mr. Gold said in a hushed voice, getting a whiff of her lilac scent and swaying where he stood.

The group froze immediately on the spot when they heard footsteps, and a pair of slim bare legs could be seen climbing down the stairs, slowly revealing Ruby in her rather revealing waitress outfit. She spotted them all and gasped loudly, dropping the box of onions she was carrying, where they all spilled onto the floor. Mr. Gold could feel Ana trembling next to him and gripped her tighter for support.

"Mr. Gold?" Ruby said confusedly. "And… you two are from the newspaper!" She started to climb back up the stairs, saying hurriedly, "I'm calling the police."

"Miss Ruby," said Mr. Gold sharply. "Get back down here."

Ruby hesitated mid-step before putting her hands on her hips. "Or what, you'll triple our rent?"

"I could do a lot worse than that," he warned softly, and she obediently climbed back down the stairs looking pissed.

"Of all the people in Storybrooke to be harbouring runaway insane people, you're the last on my list," she noted, and Ana hid behind Mr. Gold a little.

"We're not crazy," Bayden said firmly.

"Bay," Ana said desperately, giving him a look that clearly said, _don't make her angry and screw all of us._

"They are completely and utterly sane," Mr. Gold said just as firmly as Bay. "As you can clearly see. And you are correct— if they were really mad I wouldn't aid their escape, I'd bring them back to a place where they'd get help."

"We're not crazy," Bay muttered again.

"The Mayor, as usual, is simply using them to destroy someone's life as usual, as I'm sure you know," Mr. Gold explained calmly.

Ruby cocked her head to the side. "Yeah, she's screwed with Granny and I before too."

"Indeed, that is why you shan't call the police," Mr. Gold said, more of an order than a request. "And you will let me get Belle and Bae to a safe place, since _someone _was kind enough to set my shop on fire."

"Where the hell are you going to go?" Ruby said. "And someone lit your antique shop on _fire_?"

"I have a place in mind," Mr. Gold said airily.

"Well, you'll need a ride to wherever the hell you're going— the cops are all over the freaking city," Ruby said, and all three of them could have cried with relief.

"Thank you!" Ana said with a beam that took all of them by surprise. "My name is Anabelle, and this is my friend Bayden."

Ruby winked at Bay, who looked away embarrassedly, and said, "What happened to your leg and your head?"

"We can save the small talk for later," Mr. Gold said resolutely. "Bring your car out to the backdoor."

Ruby nodded before looking Ana over. "I'm assuming you don't have clothing. You're a little smaller than me, but I'm sure I'll find some stuff that'll fit you."

Ana stammered out her thanks and Ruby swept off her thanks with a swift, "No problem," before bouncing back up the stairs and avoiding stepping on onions.

"Let's hope she's not floating off to tell her grandmother who exactly is hiding in her basement," Bayden said darkly, and Mr. Gold nodded in agreement.

"Why does the Mayor do awful things to her citizens?" Anabelle asked confusedly, looking up at Mr. Gold.

He almost fell apart at the innocence etched in her still lovely features and cleared his throat before saying, "Because Mayor Mills is power-obsessed and greedy, and she will destroy people's lives to get what she wants."

"Who was she using us against?" Bayden asked, and Mr. Gold stiffened.

"I don't know," he said lamely. "There are lots of citizens in Storybrooke who are on her bad side."

"Maybe she's just lonely," Ana suggested, and Mr. Gold could have wept at how kind she was, determined to see the best in the worst of people. He certainly knew how that felt.

They waited in silence until the backdoor opened and Ruby came through holding her car keys, a scarf and a hooded sweater. "Okay, you guys are going to have to sneak into my car. This scarf," she said, approaching Anna and wrapping it around her head to cover her hair and half of her face, "goes like this, and this is my ex boyfriend's hoodie, so it might fit you," she added, handing the sweater to Bay, who pulled it on and resurfaced with his hair messy. "Come on."

Ruby and Mr. Gold walked casually out the door into broad daylight towards Ruby's car, while Bay and Ana kept their heads down and half-hid behind the two of them. Thankfully nobody saw them, and they drove through the police-car packed street with Bay and Ana ducked in the backseat.

"Turn here," Mr. Gold ordered, and Ruby obediently merged into the right lane to turn.

"We're leaving Storybrooke?" she asked, and he could have laughed at her question.

"It would be wise not to ask questions," he said airily instead. "Okay, now turn here."

Mr. Gold gave her the directions until they were on the highway leading out of Storybrooke, with an expanse of green forest on either side of them.

"Where am I leaving you then?" Ruby said bitterly, clearly wishing she were anywhere but here with Mr. Gold barking orders at her from the passenger's seat.

"Right here," Mr. Gold said swiftly.

"On the side of the road?" she said incredulously.

"I thought I said it would be wise not to ask questions."

Ruby scowled and obediently pulled over on the side of the road, and Mr. Gold practically jumped out of the car to help Anabelle out. Ruby also exited and popped the trunk open, pulling out an enormous bag of clothing.

"This is all the stuff that belongs to my exes and the stuff that's too small for me," she said, thrusting it at Bayden. "Have fun wherever the hell you're going."

"Thank you," Anabelle added politely, leaning against Mr. Gold for support again.

Ruby flashed her a smile before driving off again.

"She's right, actually," Bayden drawled. "Where the hell _are _we going?"

"I told you, we're going to my cabin in the woods," Mr. Gold said lightly, before scooping up Anabelle into his arms and starting to trek through the forest. Bay followed bitterly, lugging the bag of clothing behind him.

After nearly twenty minutes of carrying Anabelle his bad leg was started to throb, but he ignored the pain and continued determinedly through the forest. What was really slowly him down was the way Anabelle was staring up at him, with her lips parted slightly and her face reflecting mixed emotions: awe, familiarity, confusion and gratefulness. He wasn't sure which was worse; the pain in his leg or the pain of not being able to swoop down and kiss those ever-awaiting lips.

At last, the familiar sight of his wooden cabin loomed into view, next to a flowing stream that led to the Toll Bridge, and he sped up eagerly, hoping to take a good long nap and maybe have Anabelle join him (yeah right, he thought bitterly).

He set Ana down gently, pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. The scent of pine and dust overwhelmed them all when he opened the door.

"The electricity's off," Mr. Gold said, when Bayden tried to flick on the light switch. "And it has to stay off, unfortunately, or else Mayor Mills will know we're here."

He gritted his teeth against the pain of his bad leg and limped over to the kitchen, taking out some candles and a box of matches.

"Help me light these, Bae," Mr. Gold said, and Bay obediently walked over to him and began lighting candles. Soon the room was alight with a flickering orange glow, and everyone could see the full of the cabin in all its glory.

"Have you a medicine kit?" Anabelle asked, struggling to get over to the kitchen on her own. "We need to fix that cut on you face, Bay."

"It's really nothing," Bayden mumbled, as Mr. Gold took a white box off the top of the refrigerator and handed it to her.

"It's still got shards of glass in it— it's hardly nothing," Ana said firmly but kindly, pulling out a pair of tweezers. "Sorry if I hurt you."

Mr. Gold watched in awe as Anabelle tended to Bay's wound. A vivid fantasy floated into his brain, of him, Belle and Bae in his castle, before the curse happened and before Bae grew up; she was leaning over Bae's scraped knee while he spun gold from his spinning wheel and watched them intently. She would have been the perfect mother for Bae.

He winced again at the pain in his leg and hastily pulled a chair out from the dining table and sat down heavily. Anabelle noticed this and frowned for some reason.

"Thanks Ana," said Bayden gratefully, when she taped a piece of gauze over his cut. "Hang on, I'm going to get some water to boil."

Bayden grabbed a bucket and left out the front door to gather water from the nearby stream, and Mr. Gold realized with an uncomfortable stab that he and Ana were alone. She turned to him.

"Your leg hurts because you carried me," she stated, sounding upset.

"It's nothing, dearie," he said, even though it certainly was _something_.

"Bay said the same thing," Ana pointed out, grabbing a towel off the towel rack. "Hang on, I have an idea."

"Belle, wait a minute," he started, when she opened the front door again.

"Sit still," she ordered, not sharply but firmly enough to make him obey. Mr. Gold watched as she limped out of the cabin. She wasn't gone long, returning nearly two minutes later with the towel dripping wet. "Roll up your pants leg."

"Belle…" he started to protest, but she gave him a look that made him obey again. He watched curiously as she lowered herself slowly to her knees, wincing against the pain, and slowly wrapped his aching leg with the freezing cold towel. He growled softly at the numbing feeling it was doing to his knee, but he noted that the pain was starting to ebb away as the cold stiffened his sore muscles.

"When Bay returns and boils the water," she said, smiling up at him crookedly. "We'll replace the cold towel with a warm one."

"Ah, my Belle, where did you learn such magic?" he said slyly, unable to suppress a smile.

"Not sure," she shrugged. "I just knew."

Mr. Gold watched her expression slacken and her eyebrows draw together. The next thing that came from her lips nearly gave him a heart attack.

"Rumplestiltskin."

He froze on the spot and gawked down at her, heart beating a mile a minute. She noticed his look and explained, "I just realized, when Mayor Regina came into your shop, she called you Rumplestiltskin. What does that mean?"

So she didn't remember. He'd been a fool to think for a minute she knew who he was. "Um… well, Belle, it's rather hard to explain. You see, people called me that once, in a past life."

"What do you mean, 'a past life'?" Ana asked, and Mr. Gold sighed and pulled up a chair for her to sit.

"Let me tell you a story, Belle," he said. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful place called the Land of Magic. It was absolutely beautiful, filled with creatures from stories that people here call 'fairy tales'." Anabelle's eyes grew steadily wider as he continued. "But like any place, it had its dark habitants, its wars and evil misdeeds. There was a man who lived there, a poor spinner, named Rumplestiltskin, who lived with his son, Baelfire. He wanted to be able to stand up for his son and stop being a coward, so he… stole the dark powers of someone known as 'the Dark One'. Rumplestiltskin then became the Dark One."

He inhaled deeply. "And then Baelfire decided he didn't want to live with his father if he had his powers, and left." It wasn't technically a lie, but it still made Mr. Gold feel guilty. "Afterwards, Rumplestiltskin made himself rich by spinning gold from a spinning wheel and making deals with the locals, and soon he found himself a large castle. In one particular deal, after stopping a war, he obtained a young woman who was to clean for him and be his servant. She was a princess, and her name was Belle." Anabelle cocked her head to the side at the mention of her name. "And slowly Rumplestiltskin began to fall in love with her."

Ana smiled at that prospect, her eyes lighting up at the very mention of love.

"But Rumplestiltskin knew he was a complete monster who didn't deserve her," Mr. Gold practically spat. "And so he threw her out. Meanwhile, there was an Evil Queen who enjoyed destroying people's lives and meddling in their business, and she wanted Rumplestiltskin's power. So after Belle left, she came to his castle and told him…" His voice broke off for a brief moment. "She told him Belle had killed herself."

Ana's hand flew to her mouth in shock. "Did she…?"

"No," Mr. Gold sighed, the emotions he felt when Belle first barged into his backroom hitting him again like a ton of bricks. "It was a lie. Belle was fine."

"Where did she go?" Anabelle asked.

"I don't know," Mr. Gold said. "All I know is that Baelfire and Belle were reunited with Rumplestiltskin, in another world, in another life."

Anabelle smiled again. "Did Rumplestiltskin tell Belle how he felt?"

Mr. Gold opened and closed his mouth several times without actually getting any words out. When he finally found his voice he said lamely, "Not quite, but he's planning to."

"That was a lovely story, Mr. Gold," Anabelle said happily, beaming. "The way you spoke of it… it made it all sound almost real."

"It was real to me," he said darkly, as the front door opened and Bae came in with two buckets full of stream water. He set a fire in the fireplace, and once the water boiled Anabelle took the towel and soaked it in the warm water, replacing it on Mr. Gold's leg. He nearly groaned at the feeling— Anabelle certainly knew how to heal an old wound without magic or modern technology.

"Now we can drink too," Bayden added, taking out some mugs from the cupboard and scooping hot water into them.

Bay went out to fetch more water again, and Ana and Mr. Gold sat in a comfortable silence listening to the crackling of the fireplace.

"Rumplestiltskin doesn't sound like a monster to me," she said quietly, breaking the silence.

Mr. Gold suppressed the urge to gawk at her. "Oh?"

"Monsters can't love," she explained with another crooked smile. "And they don't stop wars."

Mr. Gold stayed silent and shifted uncomfortably. Once again she assessed his character as less than monstrous, and this time all she'd heard was a brief history.

"Monsters shunt out the ones they love," he said rather irritably. "They lie, they cheat, and they are power-obsessed."

"Monsters can't love," Ana repeated softly, and they fell silent again for a little while longer until she added with a grin, "I bet your love and your son were both beautiful and kind."

The two of them didn't say anything more to each other for a few hours, while Mr. Gold resisted the urge to cry on her and Ana wondered why the Land of Magic and Rumplestiltskin's story sounded so familiar.

**A/N: Sorry for the late update AGAIN, yes you can shoot me ^^' anyway, how'd you like the whole Mr. Gold-telling-Anabelle-their-story-without-her-knowing-its-theirs part? :D and the lil mention of smut up there?**


	4. Unbridled Emotion

Chapter 4

Unbridled Emotion

_Rumplestiltskin finally had her, and he was goddamn thrilled about it._

_The two of them were out in the gardens, bathed in the dazzling sunlight. They were both naked— her, with her creamy pale skin like snow, soft to the touch, and him, with grey tinted skin that he was sure would abhor her. But no, not her. She in fact seemed eager to touch it, her small but talented hands sliding all over his body, grazing his most sensitive places but never actually staying in one place for long. _

_Belle certainly knew how to tease him. _

_Rumplestiltskin had her pressed against the trunk of a willow tree, the long curtain-like, droopy leaves hiding them from view and placing them in their own private paradise. Her bare legs were clamped securely around his waist, his hands were cupping her small rear and he was slamming into her mercilessly. _

_He finally, after all these long months of torturing himself with growing attraction, fantasies and straining sexual tension, had her. She was his, and he did not repulse her. _

_Her head fell onto his shoulder as he pulled out and thrust into her again. She moaned and oh, what a positively ethereal sound! Rumplestiltskin thought he might fall to pieces from it. _

_And then he'd woken, startled and sweating and painfully erect. Panting heavily, Rumplestiltskin had slowly pushed the twisted covers of his sheets from his body, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. He had felt anger and shame boil up in his chest at the realization, and his hands curled into fists. It'd just been a dream, a perfectly wonderful, fantastic, slightly heartbreaking dream. For a moment he'd actually thought… thought…_

"_Fuck," Rumplestiltskin had muttered under his breath, resisting the overbearing temptation to pick up something fragile and break it. _

* * *

_That had been nearly five days ago, and in that time Rumplestiltskin had done his absolute best to avoid being in the same room as Belle, much less look her in the eye if they accidentally passed in the corridor. He hated himself for it— for God's sake, he was the Dark One, and here he was, afraid to meet his servant's gaze… all because he'd dreamed of fucking her senseless in the gardens. _

_Clearly, Belle saw his sudden drawback, since it had been only a week since Rumplestiltskin's mishap in his potion's chamber and his rather abrupt departure. It was now around midnight, and she was lying awake in her bed listening to the pounding of rain on her window, unable to sleep for the feeling of guilt and confusion in her chest. Had she done something to make Rumplestiltskin angry? He'd had temper tantrums in front of her before, but never had he avoided her like she was infected with a disease. Frowning in the darkness, Belle shoved the silk sheets off of her body and slithered out of bed, shivering at the cold stone on her bare feet. She slipped on a pair of night slippers and hurried out of her room and up the stairs, towards Rumplestiltskin's bedroom. _

_She arrived at his door, second-guessing her decision. Belle was rather anxious about what Rumplestiltskin would do if she suddenly waltzed into his private chambers and demanded why he'd been avoiding her. She could see flickering candlelight through the crack in the door, so she knew he was awake, and so she plucked up her courage, knocked softly and entered without waiting for an answer._

_Rumplestiltskin was sitting on the edge of his bed, his shoulders hunched over and his grey scaly skin sparkling like it was embedded with diamonds in the flickering glow of the candlelight. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of pyjama pants made of thin material, and Belle couldn't help but noticed he was rather chiselled. He flinched when Belle entered the room but didn't shout at her. _

"_You're not supposed to be in here, dearie," he said in the teasing voice Belle was started to hate. _

"_I know, forgive me," she said, approaching him anyway and standing near the side of the bed opposite to him. "Why have you been avoiding me, Rumplestiltskin?"_

_He paused for a moment, and Belle could see strain in his expression as he searched for an answer. "I haven't been avoiding you, I've simply been busy."_

"_That's a lie, Rumplestiltskin, and we both know it," said Belle firmly, sliding herself onto his rather enormous bed and crawling over to him. _

"_Careful dearie," he said lightly, turning to her with a sombre expression. "You're crawling into bed with a monster."_

"_I don't see any monsters," said Belle darkly, her face shadowed. God, she hated it when Rumplestiltskin claimed he was a monster. _

"_Then allow me to open your eyes," Rumplestiltskin growled, before he whirled around and pounced on her. Belle cried out in alarm, and Rumplestiltskin grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them to the bed, his strong thighs straddling her waist. Rumplestiltskin glared down at her, his thin hair framing his face, and he was furious to see that apart from the cry of alarm Belle wasn't responding at all. She simply stared up at him with confusion, a blush creeping up over her cheeks for God knows what reason, and her head was slightly cocked to the side, waiting for Rumplestiltskin to do something. His upper lip curled in irritation, and he buried his face in her neck and growled, from frustration that she wasn't scared of him, from the fact that damn it she looked like she almost _wanted _him and from the fact that he was now painfully erect, and his hips were starting to thrust uncontrollably into her pelvis._

"_Damn it, Belle, why aren't you afraid of me?" he snarled, almost groaning when his breath against her neck made her skin shudder._

"_Why do you want me to be?" she whispered._

_He wasn't entirely sure._

* * *

Mr. Gold woke up abruptly. He was on the couch in his cabin in the woods (he'd insisted Anabelle use his bed, both for chivalry and for the simple thought that she was _in _his bed, which was oddly arousing) and it was around five in the morning judging from the faint sunlight that was starting to peek through the cabin windows. Mr. Gold, breathing heavily, sat up and frowned at his blanket. Had he honestly just had the same dream he'd had twenty-eight years ago, when he'd been the Dark One and when Belle had quote, 'crawled into bed with a monster'. His face was hot as his thoughts wrapped around that fantastically torturing dream of him buried from tip to base in the very girl that was sleeping in the room only metres from where he sat.

Was this really happening again? Was he really going to do what he did last time and avoid her like the plague just because of his stupid desires? No, he decided firmly in his mind, he was not going to avoid her— he couldn't. She needed him at the moment, and in a way he needed her too. Mr. Gold had only just found out she was alive, and the thought of being away from her made his heart feel like it was being lit on fire.

"Are you all right?" whispered her sweet, accented voice from behind him, and he turned sharply to see her standing in the doorway. God, he thought in horror, she was undoubtedly wearing a nightgown given to her by Ruby, who'd never been one for subtlety— the poor excuse for a nightgown was made of tight red silk with a lace trim and barely ended at mid-thigh.

"I'm f-fine, dear," he stammered, forcing himself to look into her eyes instead of gawking at her slender legs like an idiot. "Can't sleep, is all."

The corner of her mouth quirked up the way he liked, and her eyes skimmed to the floor. "Neither can I. I've slept next to Bayden for I dunno how many years and only now does his snoring start to bother me."

Mr. Gold couldn't help but chuckle, thinking back to when Bae was a child; he'd snored then too. He rose from the couch, suddenly remembering that, like the time Belle had confronted him about avoiding her, he was shirtless. Anabelle frowned suddenly and began to approach him with one delicate hand outstretched towards his chest. He swallowed hard as her hand pressed against a scar on his ribcage.

"What happened?" she asked, tracing the outline of the old scar with the tip of her finger.

Mr. Gold swallowed again, his heart bouncing off of his chest. "It's an old wound, Belle, nothing to get upset about."

"You didn't answer my question," Ana remarked quietly, her eyes lifting from his scar up to his face.

Mr. Gold stared at her. In truth, the wound was made from a dragon years ago, when he'd still been the Dark One. Since magic didn't work on dragons, he'd attempted to mortally remove one of its scales for potion purposes, but the bloody beast had swiped its claws at him and practically knocked him off the mountain. But he couldn't exactly tell her it was made from a great big dirty dragon.

"I fell," he said lamely instead, unconsciously leaning toward Anabelle's touch so that the tip of her nose was just four inches away from his chest.

"That's a lie, Mr. Gold, and we both know it," said Anabelle firmly, and Mr. Gold gaped at her. She'd quoted the same thing she'd said that night all those years ago, with the exception of his name.

"_That's a lie, Rumplestiltskin, and we both know it."_

"It is a lie," he admitted softly, and in lieu of the situation his hand couldn't help but raise and drift over her smooth porcelain-coloured skin, tracing over her jaw line. Ana shifted, not uncomfortably but because his fingers had just traced over a sensitive spot that sent a stab of unfamiliar pleasure into her lower belly.

"What really happened then, and why did you lie to me?" she mumbled, wondering why the feeling of this unfamiliar man's hand on her cheek felt somehow familiar.

"I can't tell you what happened, Belle," he sighed. "You wouldn't believe me if I did." Anabelle's lips pulled into a small frown, and he sighed again. "Go back to bed. I have to go back into Storybrooke and buy us some supplies for us."

Ana's frown deepened but she obliged, turning around and starting towards the door to his bedroom. Mr. Gold bit his lip and called out, "Um, Belle?"

She turned. "Yes?"

He hesitated. "You look… lovely in that nightgown."

Anabelle blushed, whispered her thanks embarrassedly and slipped back into his room. Mr. Gold grinned stupidly, something he hadn't done in ages, and quietly tiptoed out of the house.

* * *

Mr. Gold limped through the street clutching a rather large amount of grocery bags, and ignored the looks of both loathing and pity as he hobbled down the street and into the store to his right. He walked up to the cashier, who was looking startled, and gave him a firm look.

"I need a large icebox," he said, watching the man practically cower before him.

"Of course," said the cashier, hurrying around the counter and into the back room.

"An icebox, huh?" purred the voice of Regina behind Mr. Gold, and he turned looking irritated to see her leaning in the doorway. "I would think that a man of your prestige would be able to afford a refrigerator."

"I don't need a refrigerator, I need an icebox," said Mr. Gold, his voice as cool as his purchase. "And quite frankly, _Your Majesty_, I don't think it's any of your business. Tell me, what is so important that you have to follow me into a shop?"

"You only get those kinds of supplies for camping, or living outdoors," said Regina, ignoring his question as her eyes flitted to the enormous bags in Mr. Gold's hands. "I know your shop burnt down, Gold, but I know that your mansion is still well and standing."

"Why, we're you trying to spy on me there?" Mr. Gold mocked. "As I'm sure you've already discovered, since there's no doubt you've been on my property, I'm not staying at my mansion. I'm staying with… family," he added lamely, knowing it was actually the truth.

"Rumple, I didn't think you had family," Regina said sharply, her eyes boring into his.

"Well there's some things I'd like to keep to myself," Mr. Gold spat, just as the cashier came out with an enormous icebox. "Now leave me alone."

"Gold, I know—" Regina began.

"_Please_," Mr. Gold interrupted on a hiss, and Regina drew back immediately. Frowning, she turned and stalked out of the shop. Mr. Gold heaved a sigh of relief, paid the man and lugged the icebox out the door, accidentally bumping into someone in the process.

"Oh, hello Mr. Gold," said an underdeveloped, male voice from some feet below him, and he looked down to see Henry's face looking up at him, a schoolbag on his back. "Sorry about knocking into you."

"It's fine, lad," said Mr. Gold impatiently, trying to push past the annoying child, but Henry tugged on his sleeve.

"Wait!" he said urgently. "I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it, lad, I'm on a tight schedule at the moment," said Mr. Gold, sighing but stopping obediently.

"Is the girl from the Psych Ward in the newspaper Belle?" Henry asked quietly, and Mr. Gold's face blanched.

_Ah yes, his book… the one that Ms. Blanchard gave to him…_

"Henry—" he began.

"Don't lie to me either, because I already know the truth," Henry said firmly. "And I'm not going to tell my mom… not in my life."

Mr. Gold sighed again. "Yes, Henry, the girl from the Psych Ward is Belle. And the man is my son."

"Wait, Baelfire is _here_?" Henry gaped, and Mr. Gold cringed about his inside knowledge in his life.

"In the meantime, try to… keep your mother away from me. She's already suspicious."

"You can count on me!" said Henry excitedly, glad to finally be included in on something.

"Now aren't you supposed to be in school right now?" Mr. Gold said firmly, in a voice he'd once used on Bae when he'd been late for his lessons. "Go on, don't be late."

Henry gave Mr. Gold one last grin and took off down the street. Mr. Gold didn't know whether to chuckle or frown, so he did neither and simply turned around and headed back to Granny's, hoping to get a ride from Ruby instead of having to walk all the way back to the forest. It had been fine earlier, but now he had a ton of groceries and supplied and a huge icebox weighing him down, and his bad leg was already beginning to protest.

_Maybe you can get Belle to do what she did last time, _cooed his libido. _She'd be close to you again, and wasn't it wonderful last time when she touched your leg…?_

Mr. Gold felt a stab of desire, shoved the thought out of his mind and tried not to shove the other people walking on the sidewalk into morning traffic with his giant icebox.

**A/N: okay i know this is LOONG overdue, but i've been so busy with work and school and my other two Labyrinth fics :( isn't it great though? OUAT IS BACK ON THE AIR! :DD and what a great season it's been so far! we've finally discovered Rumple's first wife and what happened to her, i finally found out where the f*ck Sleeping Beauty was, Mr. Gold and Belle's relationship is rocky (noo!) and EMMA LOVED SOMEBODY! :DDD oh yeah, and Daniel rose from the dead :p just sayin'**


	5. NOTICE

NOTICE:

Since the OUAT series has progressed to the point that Rumple and Belle not only are reunited and remember each other, but are also struggling with their relationship, I've decided this story is old news :( I won't take it down, but I guess there's no point in continuing. I haven't really updated in a while anyway, been busy with keeping the too-early deadline my publisher keeps setting (-_-) and i've been trying to catch up with school and other stories and yada yada... Idk if I'll do another OUAT fic, kinda swamped with the Labyrinth fics AND the books series (once again: -_-) Thanks for staying with me!

Sincerely, Vampiyaa

Oh yeah, PS, if any of you like or know the Henson/Lucas film Labyrinth starring sexy 30 year old David Bowie in tight pants (:DDDDDDDDDDDDD) check out my fics! pwease? :3


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